


codename crypto

by shortythescreen



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Banter, Fist Fights, Guns, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Oral Sex, Other, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, credit to apex for the last bit but i Did Not Write It, gender neutral reader, i only Altered it Slightly, i partially edited a load screen to fit this so, reader is a bounty hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22667947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortythescreen/pseuds/shortythescreen
Summary: You're a bounty hunter with your sights set on Tae-Joon Park.You're bad at being professional.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Reader, Crypto | Park Tae Joon/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 130





	codename crypto

**Author's Note:**

> gender neutral reader! however, words used to describe reader's parts are pussy/clit/cunt, so if that kind of thing isn't for you, keep that in mind going in! also! 
> 
> everyone has been commenting on and giving kudos to come over so what do i do? 
> 
> write a 7k crypto fic. obviously.

“Tae-Joon Park,” someone says from his left, and Crypto freezes mid step, blood chilling. He hasn’t heard his name in a long enough time that he should be relieved he still recognizes it. Were he in any other circumstance, he might even be happy to hear it.

Yet, he’s in a shitty motel room, on the run for crimes he didn’t commit. He hasn’t spoken to anyone that would know his real name in person in well over a few months.

“You’ve got quite a rap sheet,” the person says and Crypto finally turns to look at the corner their voice came from.

You have one leg crossed over the other, phone propped in your hand, which rests idly on the arm of the chair you’ve claimed. Your seat is in just the right spot that, if you’d stayed quiet, he might not have noticed you. The light of the setting sun just hits one of your boots and he would have to squint to see your face if it weren’t lit up by your phone.

“Evading police capture, assaulting an officer, and ooh, would you look at that, second degree _murder_ -”

“Who are you? And how did you get in here?” He bristles and you smirk, looking at him without turning your head away from your phone.

“Y’know, you’re pretty smart. Paranoid, but smart. Leaving bugs around all the entrances to alert you if someone breaks in,” you say, “but my god, the guy up front was too easy to bribe. Like, disgustingly easy. Like, if you’re going to choose a sleazy motel, you might want to choose a sleazy motel that isn’t run by a sleaze-”

You stop when Crypto whips out his drone, holding it up to your face like a gun. You raise an eyebrow at him, finally clicking the phone screen off and setting it face down on the arm of the chair. You stare past the drone to look at his face.

“Get out,” he spits, “and forget you saw me.”

You sigh through your nose, rolling your eyes. Bracing yourself on the arms of the chair, you stand up, leaving a measly inch or two between you and the head of the drone.

“So, my name is-”

“I don’t care. Get out.”

“You cared earlier. Don’t be rude.”

You introduce yourself with a grand flourish, holding your arms out like an actor on stage. “I’m a bounty hunter,” you add.

Crypto surges forward, ramming the point of the drone against your chest. You let out a little noise as you’re shoved back into the chair, your phone clattering to the floor as the legs squeak across the tile floors.

“Who sent you?” He seethes.

You hold one hand up, the other rubbing little circles where he struck you. You pout. “Hey, that wasn’t nice.”

“Who _sent_ you?” 

“No one. There’s just a pretty price on your head, buddy.”

“The Syndicate put out a reward?”

“You know, it’s a good idea to keep track of your net worth,” you say, “you’re a pretty shitty criminal.”

“Because I’m not one,” he snaps, half against his will, “I was framed.”

“Ooh, I’ve heard this one before,” you grin, “can I tell it? I’ma tell it. You were innocently living your apple pie lifestyle, making an honest living, just scraping by, when all the sudden, you spilled coffee on a Syndicate leader’s shirt. They got so pissed off they framed you for the murder of that poor girl-”

“Don’t talk about her,” Crypto says, watching your expression change. “Don’t bring her into this.”

You stop and Crypto doesn’t realize you’d been pressing into the drone until you settle back into the chair. Your fingers drum against the arms of the chair.

“Huh,” you say, then you lift your legs and kick his out from under him.

Crypto’s free hand slaps the floor and you leap from your seat to knee him in the chin, the chair you were in flying back. His teeth rattle but he rolls to the side before you can land a steel toed kick. He hurls his drone at you, and you duck just before it hits you, darting forward.

Your leg sweeps out to catch his temple, but he grabs your ankle, pulling you off your feet. Your back hits the floor with a loud thump and you grunt, disoriented. Crypto tries to grab your foot that’s still free, lifting himself up, and you take the opportunity to knock your heel against his teeth.

His mouth tastes like iron and he ignores the throb in favor of pinning the bloody boot that caught him down. He uses his grip to drag you across the floor and you push yourself to sit up, forehead touching his as he crouches over you.

“You know,” you pant, “you’re actually kinda cute.”

Crypto traps one of your legs beneath his, freeing one of his hands. You quickly jab at his sternum and with a wheeze he catches your fist. You barely have time to swing for his cheek before he’s pinning you down, his legs on either side of one of yours and his hands sealing yours above your head.

His blood drips onto your face as he pants above you and you still, watching him. You’re unphased by the steady drip, drip, drip of blood onto your cheek and that’s when Crypto realizes you’ve split his lip.

Your chest rapidly rises and falls, hair smushed beneath your head. Your vision is still clearing from the hit your head had taken when he’d dragged you down beneath him. 

“ _Really_ cute,” you breathlessly murmur and Crypto doesn’t like the way his gut jumps at how thrilled you sound.

Then, you slam your head into his, and he releases you with an ungraceful flail. He falls onto his ass, eyes swimming into the view of the barrel of your gun.

You cock it quickly, panting as you rise to one knee. There’s not much of a height advantage like this but he’s injured, and you’ve got a gun.

“You’d put an innocent man in jail for money?” He wheezes, his eyes swimming into view of your gun.

“We all gotta eat, baby,” you say. “And the Syndicate can make sure I eat for a good, long while if I bring you in.”

“You didn’t say I was guilty,” he grunts.

You say nothing, wobbling to your feet. “C’mon, Park, stand up. Let’s not make this any harder than it’s been.”

Crypto grunts, glaring up at you. You stare down at him, all your earlier smarminess replaced by a gravity he didn’t think he could see from someone so smug. Still, he pushes his tired legs to stand.

“Thanks, guy. No hard feelin-in-in-”

You hiss through your teeth as electricity bolts through you. Your gun clatters to the floor, out of your stiffening hands and Tae-Joon watches you crumple.

The little drone crowds the corner of your vision. It almost looks like a puppy in your fizzling mind. Your body curls at an unnatural angle as your eyes start rolling back.

“Yeah,” he says, “no hard feelings.”

It’s the last thing you hear before you pass out.

[page break]

Crypto forgets about you, mostly. The experience makes him more vigilant (paranoid). He has no idea how it is you found him – or if you’ve relayed your exchange to the syndicate. So, he invests in an anti-facial recognition neck piece, among other things to remain covert.

A few months pass and after finding himself looking in dark corners a little more than he should, he begins to relax. Somewhat.

Crypto’s sitting in a sports bar. It’s at least one in the morning yet the bustle of activity has yet to die down, something that he’s grateful for. Should anyone spy him, he can make a quick getaway among rowdy civilians.

Nursing a glass of scotch as he squints at his laptop, Crypto barely acknowledges the footsteps around him.

“You need glasses, huh?”

Crypto’s head snaps up at your voice. Your face floods his vision as quickly as the memory of you does and he bristles.

Your hands are stuffed into the pockets of the same stupid leather jacket you were wearing last time. He wonders if his blood is still on your boot.

He doesn’t look down to check and doesn’t respond to your question either.

“I mean, Jesus, you’ve been staring at that laptop like it hurt you,” you snort, “real subtle way to blend in at a bar. You look like a confused college student.”

“What are you doing here?” Crypto finally grits out. You roll your eyes, sliding into the booth he’s occupied at. You move to flag down a waitress, but he grabs your forearm midair, squeezing tightly.

You turn to face him, your faces only a few inches apart. If you were to scoot a little to the left, your thighs would be touching.

“Let go of my arm or I’ll scream,” you say calmly, “and that really won’t help you blend in here, Tae-Joon.”

“Don’t call me that,” Crypto hisses, slamming your hand down onto the table then releasing. You raise your brows, unimpressed. Then, you flag down a waitress, asking for some fruity drink.

“Why not? It’s your name,” you say through a sweet, faux smile. It slowly melts off your face as the waitress walks away with your order and he glares at your placid expression.

“Not anymore,” he says, and his tone catches your attention. You turn to look at him, twisting a little, and your knees _do_ touch.

“Well, we could argue the logistics all night long,” you say, a little too flippantly for the way you look at him. “But I’m not calling you Crypto, that’s just fucking lame.”

Crypto heaves a great, giant sigh, burying his face in his hands. His fingers stutter up to his temples, where he presses down to try and soothe a forming headache.

“How did you find me?” He asks you for the second time.

“You don’t blend well,” you tell him, “has anyone ever told you that? You stick out.”

Crypto curses in his native tongue, speaking through gritted teeth. “How the hell did you find me?”

You sniff, that pretty, fake smile gracing your features as the waitress returns with your drink. It glows some odd shade of pink, and you pluck a cherry from the glass. You eat it in one bite, wagging a finger at him, the rest of them clutching the stem.

“You-” you pause to swallow, “you might hide yourself from cameras and surveillance, Park, but you’re shit at hiding from people.”

“There’s people here who know my name?” Crypto whispers, staring at his laptop, which has gone idle.

“No. But you’re kinda hard to miss, Mr. Laptop-In-A-Bar. And I’ve got a bunch of narratives that are believable,” you say, “my personal favorite is-”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t be rude,” you say, “my favorite is where you’re my cheating husband, run off with your lover. People get so weird about that shit—or righteous. Either they’re all like, “oh, uh, shit, sorry”, or they’re like, “he’s that way, kick his ass.””

Crypto half smirks, glancing at you. It’s the first time he’s come close to smiling since Mila’s death. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

“You cheated last time,” you pout, “I could totally kick your ass.”

“Anything goes if you’re trying to arrest me,” he replies.

“I’m not trying to arrest you, though. I’m trying to collect a bounty on you.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“Not quite! Cops are assholes with shitty pay. I’m an asshole with _decent_ pay.”

The mention of your payment weighs on Crypto. He investigated it after your last meeting – the reward for his capture is humongous. Still, could your greed really beat out what’s right? You seemed to believe him last time.

“Could you really put an innocent man away just for some money?” He asks, turning to really look at you. If he were Tae-Joon, he might’ve thought you were cute. He might have even asked to buy you a few drinks, asked to see you again.

But he’s not Tae-Joon anymore. You’ve grown oddly quiet then sniff, turning away. Crypto doesn’t give you the opportunity to say whatever it is you’re thinking, beginning to rapidly type.

“What are you doing anyway?” You ask, leaning in, and your shoulder brushes his as you peer at his laptop screen. “You stick out like a sore fucking thumb with this thing.”

He doesn’t answer, instead continuing his rapid typing. You vaguely recognize some of the code having learned a little for your purposes. You never honed your skills though and before your brain can register what it is that Crypto’s doing, he’s moving onto the next phase.

A green loading bar appears on the screen.

“Hello, Tae-Joon?” You say, “Earth to TJ-”

Trapped in a booth, you don’t have time to move out the way as Crypto punches you in the face. Sitting down, he doesn’t clock you well enough to do anything more than catch you off guard.

You slam your glass into the side of his head, and it shatters. Crypto squeezes his eyes shut, scooting back and out of the booth before you can ball your bleeding hand into a fist to punch him. You follow him out, swinging and missing.

By now, you’ve drawn the attention of the bar goers. Crypto’s eyes reopen, blood dribbling from the little wounds on the side of his face, and you find yourself oddly focused on the way it pools beneath his chin.

Your hand shakes from the glass stuck in it but you charge him anyway, slamming your knee up into his sternum, then your elbow into his side as you begin to drop.

Crypto grabs your arm, twisting it so you’re suddenly looking at the floor. You bare your teeth, pushing against his fist between your shoulder blades.

He’s pressing you down with all his might and the way your arm is contorted behind your back makes you grit your teeth. He’s stronger than you, bigger, and sweat begins to form on your brow.

You barely register the sounds of people cheering the two of you on as you manage to lift yourself up. Just enough that you can sweep a leg back and knock one of Crypto’s legs from beneath him. As he falls to one knee, his grip slackens and you swing around, throwing a leg over his shoulder and interlocking your fingers to strike his skull.

Crypto reaches up to grab your sides in a vice. His hot breath on your stomach sends a plume of adrenaline through you and you growl, violently pounding on his head. You ignore the searing pain in your hand.

Remarkably, he stands, one of your legs dangling down by his torso and the other wrapped around his head. You beat your fists against his skull, once, twice, one more time. He storms forward, slamming you onto the table you two had been chatting at.

The breath leaves your lungs and before you have time to gather it back, Crypto wraps his fingers around your throat.

One hand wraps around his wrist as you gasp, one leg still over his shoulder, the other flailing against his waist. Your blood stains the opening of his jacket.

The edges your vision begin to round, making the world look like a fishbowl. You clench your teeth, balling your free hand into a fist. You slam it once on the table before throwing a vicious hook at his temple.

He flinches but doesn’t move. You buck beneath him, trying to throw him off, but Crypto doesn’t budge and your mouth opens and shuts like a fish.

He’s so solid. And warm.

You punch him in the throat. He brutally coughs, releasing you to clutch it and stumble away. You gulp air back into your lungs greedily, head throbbing with the swell of oxygen. You paw for your thigh and with a hand that feels like lead, you pull out your gun, sitting upright again.

You don’t have the focus to aim yet but the onlookers from the bar all scream when they see your gun. The circle they’d formed breaks up, people running in different direction, creating waves you can’t comprehend. Your eyes dart around and you jump up as you spot Crypto pushing through the crowd.

“Tae-Joon!” You scream, raising the pistol. “ _Tae-Joon!_ God fucking damn it!”

People have scattered and you lose sight of the white coat in the madness. With a groan, you fall back against the table. You drag a hand down your face, ignoring the blood on it when you pull it back. His laptop catches your eye and you turn it to face you.

The green bar is gone, but so is everything else. You tap on one of the keys impatiently, trying to get it to wake up. Even though you’ve put your gun down, people are still running. The white noise is accompanied by a white cursor on a screen that refuses to change from the color black. 

[page break]

Crypto doesn’t stay in one place for very long.

His most extended period at any one motel is about a week. He’s pushing it now, his sixth day in one spot, but he’s just been so exhausted. He at least has sense enough to pick up groceries at different stores around the place he’s staying.

He’s at a grocery store, eyeing the ice cream section. He could really go for some rocky road. If he’s going to get it, he should get a pint instead of a gallon and make sure to polish it off before tomorrow morning. Crypto opens the freezer door, reaching in to get his ice cream. 

“Didn’t think you’d have a sweet tooth,” you say as the freezer door shuts. Crypto’s eyes shut, hand idling with his grip on the ice cream. He sighs through his nose. “Tae-Joon.”

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters defeatedly. His eyes open and he finds you smirking, your head tilted to the side as you watch him from beneath raised eyebrows.

“I still think Crypto’s lame,” you tell him.

“I don’t care what you think,” he says, and before he can think too hard about your pout, he’s turning, walking away from you in the aisle.

“Hey, I was talking to you,” you say, and the heavy clunk of your boots alerts him that you’re hurrying to match his pace. He drops his rocky road in his basket, looking straight ahead, like maybe he can will you away if he doesn’t meet your eyes. “Tae-Joon? Hello? Tae-Joon. Tae-Joon. _Tae-Joon_. Tae-”

“Would you shut up?” He finally hisses, abruptly stopping, head snapping to glare at you. Your smirk widens, hands sliding into your pockets. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” you say.

“You’re not going to get it.”

“Not now anyway. We’re in the ice cream aisle.”

“I’m starting to hate the ice cream aisle.”

“Says the one buying rocky road.”

You two are at a standstill and after a long pause, Crypto grunts, making his way across the store. This time, though, he’s unhurried and you’re able to match his strides without half jogging. He turns down another aisle, pausing at the cereal bars.

“I’ve been trying to blend in,” he tells you, grabbing the store brand peanut butter bars.

“I know,” you say, “you’re getting harder to find.”

That… is a good thing. Surprising, but a good thing. He’s bitter to admit that your advice from your last run in is a large part of the reason he’s getting better at hiding, but he would have been hard pressed to care about the eyes of civilians on him had you not pointed out they could be questioned.

“You gonna give up?” He asks, heading for the self-checkout.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” You say, moving over to bag up his items as he scans them. He watches you from the corner of his eye, oddly at ease despite knowing you’re trying to apprehend him. It’s becoming a constant and those are very few in the life of Crypto. You step back at you finish bagging up and he pulls out a card with a name that isn’t his to pay.

“You steal that?” You ask.

“No. It’s all mine. Just under an alias,” he tells you. He doesn’t notice the way your eyes flicker to the ground, finding a spot near his feet to stare at.

“You know I have to try,” you tell him as a digital receipt is offered. Crypto declines it and lifts his groceries, headed for the exit. “To take you in, I mean. I gotta eat.”

“You could have a cereal bar,” he offers, and you snort, following him out, hands still in your pockets. You two pause at the exit and Crypto isn’t sure what’s going to happen.

“Do you miss her?” You ask him and he glances over at you. You elaborate at his silence. “Mila. All the reports say you two grew up together.”

He tenses, glancing around, and you follow his gaze to some cameras in the corner. You jerk your head to the left and the two of you stroll down the sidewalk, yellowish streetlights illuminating the dark roads.

“Why are you asking?” He asks.

“I want to know.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanna, Tae-Joon, Jesus Christ. It’s like pulling teeth with you.”

“How do I know you’re not bugged?”

That’s a reasonable question. You know it is. It’s why your jaw clenches and you stare ahead, avoiding his eyes. Then you unceremoniously stop. He unconsciously stops with you and watches as you turn, slinking into the shadows of an alcove between buildings. He watches you in the dark, holding your arms out.

“Scan me.” You say. He raises his eyebrows at you, surprised. Glancing around, Crypto follows you into the dark spot, setting his groceries down. He pulls Gi off his back, touching a button on his side, then allowing him to scan you.

The rays from his eye remain green as they flash down your front, casting a glow across your skin. His eyes follow the scan, like he’s looking for something, but Gi is doing all the looking for him. His eyes flicker back up to yours and he’s sure your gaze has never left his face.

“Pat me down. You don’t know if I could have anti-scan tech,” you offer.

“Gi would’ve bypassed it,” he dismisses.

“Do it,” you say and Crypto’s head tilts as Gi takes his place on his back once again. For a minute, he thinks about taking his groceries and running. About maybe even leaving his groceries. Your eyes pin him, though, and with a giant, heaving sigh, Crypto creeps into your space.

His hands diligently slide up and down the arms of your jacket, feeling what he’s now certain is faux leather. His synthetic fingertips brush the tops of your hands and he quickly disregards whatever spark bolts through him in favor of palpating your sides. You’re firm, warm, and devoid of anything that might be a device. Crypto kneels, continuing down to your legs, and maybe he squeezes a little too hard when he hits your thighs.

Your breath hitches above him and Crypto glances up at you. You stare straight ahead, past him, and his hands slide up the backs of your calves, searching, seeking. As he stands up, he’s not sure of what anymore.

“Do you miss Mila?” You ask again, hands finally dropping to your sides. He glances away from you, at the dirty, moldy building.

“Yes. Often.” He says softly, almost hard to hear over the steady drip-drip-drip of a leaky pipe at the back of the alcove. “She was… stupid. And reckless. But I loved her.”

You nod, looking down at his shoes and pulling your upper lip between your teeth. Your gaze slowly flicks up the length of him, to his gaze that has refocused on you.

“I have to try to take you in,” you tell him.

“But my Rocky Road,” he says, and you bite back a smile.

“Don’t make me laugh, asshole,” you say, reaching up to crack your knuckles. He sighs heavily.

His Rocky Road melts.

[page break]

You can’t get Tae-Joon out of your mind.

Every time he escapes you, he gets harder to find. In your mad pursuit to catch him, you’ve found yourself forgetting about other bounties.

You’ve seen him a few other times since your talked about Mila – never without some kind of conversation passing between you before you try to take him in again. He always manages to slip between your fingers, disappearing into the crowd for you to track again.

You know you should be more worried about the rolls of cash you carry on you slowly beginning to disappear. There’s easier fish to fry than Tae-Joon, guys that will make your life easier, keep your income flowing.

And yet…

You’ve liked the game of cat and mouse you two have settled into. You think he does too. Crypto never would have gone to well lit, camera rich locations before you two met – tracking him to that seedy motel and that even seedier bar had been through strokes of luck that you refused to acknowledge as anything more than that. Now, though, you’ve gone in as a detective, seeing his face in department stores, in shopping malls.

In Orphanage documents next to Mila.

He’s… Different, than the criminals you usually pursue. He’s one that keeps you up at night, makes you truly doubt you’re doing the right thing.

He’ll never let you take him in without a fight – but sometimes, you think maybe he’s seeking you out for companionship. Maybe, on some level, you’re seeking him out for the same thing. For the banter you two have when you’re together, for the way his sharp, tired eyes size you every time you slide into the booth across from him or take a walk with him around a department store.

“The universe can get pretty lonely,” you mutter to yourself, holed up in a shitty motel, staring at the grainy photos before you, a little drone trailing someone in a long, white coat.

[page break]

Crypto has come to expect you.

Whether he’s in a gas station around the corner from his motel, or in a completely different district from the last time you saw him, you always seem to crop up. You approach him pleasantly, all smiles and small talk. Like an old friend.

Then, you try to subdue him. He’s still recovering from your last bout, a nasty, purplish bruise across his ribs from where you tackled him into some perfume display.

He always manages to get away. You pull out your gun in some crowded place and people scatter, giving him the cover to maneuver from your clutches. He’s not quite sure if you do it out of desperation or if you want to give him the opportunity.

He wouldn’t doubt he’s pushed you to the edge if it weren’t for the look in your eyes. You’re the better fighter. Dirtier, more experienced. If you two went at it long enough, you could probably get him in cuffs, or at least keep him in one place long enough for the Syndicate to arrive and apprehend him. Yet, every time, you pull your weapon, staring at him as you do. You never take your eyes from your target – until he’s in a crowd where you can no longer see him.

Today, you’re not really on his mind. He has business at Noir and Blake’s – a shitty club in a corner of the red light distract that deals with people like him. People that are wanted. He’s in the final phases of his plan, of breaching the Syndicate like he desperately needs to.

He shoulders into the club, the blacklights making his coat glow neon. Partygoers dance around him, bumping each other back and forth, and he can hardly hear the DJ over the loud thump of the bass. He ignores its steady thump, looking around for his informant.

He’s early but he supposes he’d been hoping his informant would be too. Even as he peers at the VIP sections, he doesn’t see the gentleman that will give him the new identification and records he needs to start in the games. With a displeased grunt, Crypto stands at the edge of the dance floor, packed with people, pushing him against the velvet rope. His hands sit in his pockets, and Gi idly scans all their faces, his camera facing them.

“Tae-Joon,” you greet, like you always do, invading his mind when he doesn’t want and Crypto doesn’t turn his head to look at you. Instead, he turns away, facing the dance floor. “Didn’t take you for a clubber.”

“I’m not,” he says, “I’m waiting on someone.”

“Aw, you’re too sweet,” you coo, nudging him with your elbow. He snorts, nostrils flaring in amusement as you lazily twist to face the same direction as him. You two stand in companionable silence for a while and Crypto is almost concerned.

“Here to take me in again?” He asks, breaking the silence. You hum, fingers wrapped around the velvet red rope separating the VIP area of the club from the rest.

“Not yet,” you tell him. He snorts. You smirk. It’s an easy rhythm, one you fall into just as easily as the thump-thump-thump of the music. “C’mon, get a drink with me.”

“Don’t poison me,” he warns, although he’s already following you towards the bar. Your leather jacket doesn’t change color under the black light, though your skin glows an eerie color. His eyes flicker across your back, across the muscular line of your calves, and he finds himself slowing to allow you to make it to the bar before him.

You order both of you something, leaning your forearms on the bar. He stands idly near you, waiting for a chair to open should someone drunk enough decide to join the hoard at your backs. You watch the bartender go. Then, not looking at him, you speak.

“For what it’s worth, I believe you.” You say and Crypto stays silent as the bar tender drops two drinks in front of you. He’s pretty sure they’re both bourbons. He still picks up the one placed in front of you instead of him and you snort, grabbing the other one. You amble around to face him, lifting your glass and take a deep gulp of what is—he tries it himself—definitely bourbon.

“About Mila, I mean,” you elaborate and Crypto stiffens, looking down at you. You smile at him, teeth white under the black light, though it doesn’t reach your eyes, glowing just as much. “I don’t think you killed her.”

“What changed your mind?” He asks, curious.

“I never thought you did. Not for sure,” you say, finishing off the glass. You clear your throat at the burn and he watches the way your nose wrinkles a little more closely than he means to. “But I’ve been… Looking into things. About you. About her. I don’t think you could’ve done it… Plus, the Syndicate’s timeline doesn’t make’a lick’a sense.”

Crypto hums, watching you over the rim of his glass. You turn your head, looking down the line of the bar, and Crypto does the same. He wonders if you know who he’s here to see. If you know what he’s planning. The part of him that still has sense reminds him that no, you couldn’t. Still, though, you two have been at this dance for so long – who’s to say what you know and what you don’t?

“Are you still gonna take me in?” He asks. You chuckle, lips curling upwards as you keep your eyes on other people.

“I should, shouldn’t I? You’ve drained my bank account with all this damn moving around.” You don’t move your head, but your eyes meet his, and you watch him from the corner of your eye. You have that look again, like you’re waiting on something. Like you’re giving him the opportunity to get away.

“I could feed you,” he says, matching the question in your eyes. _What do you want?_

“You sure could, TJ,” you say, pushing off the edge of the bar, almost closing the space between your bodies. He turns his head down to look at you, at the way you look at him, at the way that cruel little smirk of yours twists into something else. Something gradual.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching down. You snatch his wrist before it gets to yours, tilting your head as you look up at him. He could punch you. He could cause a panic, run away in this crowded space, leave you to chase him down again. Now with the knowledge that he’s as innocent as he’s always claimed. 

He pulls his wrist from your grasp, sliding the synthetic skin of his burned off fingertips into yours. You observe the tangle of your fingers and with no resistance, he pulls you away from the bar.

[page break]

He pushes you up against the sink of this stupid, shitty club. Your shirt thumps with the bass outside and your legs hook around his waist. You don’t care about the way your jeans scrape against the rust on the sink, or how someone is going to figure out what you two are doing. You don’t care about anything except his fingers, on fire and freezing at the same time, digging into your thighs, parting them so he can wedge himself closer.

“Tae-Joon,” you whisper, and he smothers your words with a kiss, tongue pressing between your lips. He tastes like bourbon, and bad choices, and your legs lock tighter around his waist.

You hurriedly push that stupid coat off his shoulders, and he’s already unbuttoning your jeans. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades and he outright moans against your lips as you rake downwards.

He pulls away from your mouth to drag hurried kisses down your throat. His breath puffs against your skin, made sensitive by what he’s doing to you, and pleasant chills go down your spine as he tries to tug your jeans down.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” you breathe. You slip your hands beneath the hem of his shirt, dragging up, and he winces back. You pause as he raises his head to look at you, giving you a moment to explore what you’ve done to him. To feel the puffy skin where you last left your mark.

“Fuck _me_ ,” you sigh, dragging him back into a kiss. Tae-Joon’s lips are messy on yours, desperate, like he’s been waiting for this between every punch, every bite and kick. He tugs at the waist band of your jeans again, managing to drag them halfway down your ass. With a reluctant huff, you pry your hands away from his—delicious, slim, _bruised_ —sides.

Pressing your palms flat to the bathroom counter, you lift yourself up, hips bucking into his as you use your grip around his waist for leverage. A whine leaves his throat as you rub up against him, hot and hard, and he shucks down your jeans so quick you almost fall off the edge of the sink.

“Why do you wear such tight jeans? How do you even get a kick in with these on?” He mumbles, taking pouting steps away from you to unlace one of your boots. You half laugh, breathless.

“No better than you do in that ridiculous fucking coat,” you tell him, and he smirks, your boot clunking to the floor as he pulls it off. You think he’s going to go for the other – but instead, he only pulls one side of your jeans off, leaving the other stuck to the boot you still have on before he’s on you again.

“Seriously?” You ask as he bunches your shirt up, over your chest.

“Seriously,” he mutters, and you go to laugh, only for the noise to die on your lips as he encases a nipple in his mouth.

“Tae-Joon,” you gasp as his tongue flickers over it, bringing it to a swollen, puffy stand. Your fingers slide up, to the short, cropped edges of his hair, and tug harshly. He half whimpers against your chest, teeth singeing the edges of your nipple in vengeance.

His fingers dance across your thigh, towards the edges of your underwear. Then, without warning, he presses his fingertips against your swollen, aching clit.

“Fuck!” You gasp, the noise punched from your lungs. Your underwear sticks uncomfortably to your wet cunt, outlining its pretty lips, and Tae-Joon seems to be enjoying himself in figuring out what it looks like before he sees it. He spreads your wetness across the aching shape of you, middle finger riding harsh circles against your clit.

Using your grip on his hair, you haul him back up, to your lips, dragging him close again. His fingers pause on your clit and the noise you make would be embarrassing if Tae-Joon didn’t swallow it. He pushes his hand into the waistband of your underwear, using his knuckles to pry the soaked cloth away from your pussy. He groans against you as he feels your arousal, pulling away so only your noses brush.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers, and you want to grit out something sarcastic but then he touches you, a finger hooking inside with almost no resistance and the moan that leaves you speaks for itself.

“Wanna-” you’re cut off as she fucks his finger against that spongy spot inside of you that would make your knees weak if you weren’t on a sink’s counter. “Fuck, Tae-Joon, wanna touch you too.”

He shudders, sighing at your words and with one more well-placed thrust of his finger, he pulls it out. The sticky trail of your juices is mostly wiped away on your underwear and he steps back to let you down.

You stumble, the foot caught in your boot and jeans making you lean sideways. You huff, leaning back against the bathroom counter and lifting your foot to begin unlacing your boot. You’re so focused that you don’t realize Tae-Joon’s laughing until you hear the quiet chortle. Your eyes raise and you feel your heart slow, vision clouding just a little at the way the corners of his eyes have crinkled up, how he’s covering his mouth with one hand, the other idling on his hip.

“Shut up,” you say through a smile and he drops his hand, showing you the little gap between his teeth. Something in your chest snaps and you’re yanking your boot off, shaking your foot so your jeans will land on the floor. Gracelessly, you fall to your knees, cold on the floor as you drag him closer to you by the loops of his pants.

He says something in his native tongue, hand carding through your hair to push it away from your face. You long zip of his pants gives way to a large gap as you open it up and you sigh at the sight of his cock, already smearing a stain into the strain of his underwear.

“You look so good,” you mumble, and he hums, continuing to pet your hair away. Then, you tug the fabric keeping you from your prize down. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and aching, wet, pink tip sneaking out from the uncut top. “Jesus Christ.”

“Not my name,” he breathes down and you snort and without any more preamble, you lean in, lips hugging the crown of his cock. He whimpers, hand tightening to a fist in your hair. It makes it difficult to move, but saliva wells in your mouth and you find yourself hollowing your cheeks to tighten the space you suck him into.

Tae-Joon is surprisingly responsive. You wonder how long it’s been for him, if you’re the first to touch him in months, maybe even years. That shouldn’t send a thrill you, but it does, and your tongue greedily flickers over the tip of his leaking cock, eating all that he gives you.

You move your head from left to right, exhaling through your nose to ignore the urge to gag as you push him towards your throat. He groans and the noise is so loud it has your eyes flickering to the door.

Then, you realize why Tae-Joon doesn’t seem to care.

Posed at the door is his little drone, wings spread, and green scanner honed on the door. He’s locked it from the inside without having to lick a finger, and maybe you start to suck a little more in earnest when you realize how badly he didn’t want to be interrupted.

You squeeze his thigh, wet lips dragging along his cock, back and forth, suck and release, and Crypto’s fingers tremble as he tries to keep your hair from falling in your face. Finally, you pull off of him with a loud, wet pop, and just in time, as the tip of his cock has turned red with incoming explosion.

“ _No_ ,” he half pleads, “don’t stop.”

“I want you,” you say, “and I don’t think I’m gonna get to have you if you cum down my throat.”

The mere thought has him groaning, palming at his rigid dick. Tae-Joon grabs your hips, spinning you to face the sink he’d perched you on when you two first stumbled in together.

He crowds your back, erection resting against the line of your ass through your underwear. His hands slide down your stomach, towards your underwear, and he begins to push down, lips finding your throat once again. “I don’t have a condom.”

“My wallet. Back pocket of my jeans,” you say and he hums, nipping at your ear for a moment before shucking your underwear the rest of the way down. He steps away from you, the flesh of your backside cool without him there, and it only takes a minute for him to return to you, condom in place.

“Open up,” he mutters and that doesn’t make a lot of sense, but he coaxes one of your legs up, onto the edge of the sink. He grabs the fat of your hip the position creates, taking hold of his cock, and pressing it between your dripping lips.

“ _Oh_ ,” you bite, catching the tip of your tongue between your teeth. He’s long, pulling you apart in a way that sends ripples up your spines, that has your wet walls hugging him. Tae-Joon groans, pausing as his hips rest flush against your ass.

“Give me a second,” he huffs, and you’re thrilled that he sounds as wrecked as you already feel. He loops his free arm around your waist, synthetic fingertips beginning to stroke little circles on your clitoral hood. You squirm in his grasp, his forehead resting against your shoulder blade as he works you up again, leaving you to sweat on his cock while bolts of lightning fly through you.

“God, please,” you whisper, fisting your hands.

You don’t have a lot of stability with your leg up on the edge of the sink but Tae-Joon holds you steady as he stands upright. He pulls himself halfway out, the slow drag making your inside flutter, then rams back in. You cry out, hands pressing to the wall beneath the mirror for leverage as he starts fucking you in earnest.

The blunt head of his cock knocks against that same part inside you he’d touched with his fingers and your jaw drops, little uh-uh-uh noises leaving you. He’s muttering something and you’re pretty sure it’s not an English, thrusts deeper, and deeper, and deeper still.

“Say it,” he gasps out as he buries himself to the base. He grinds against you, abusing your cunt, and you moan lowly.

“Say—fu _hhuuck_ me, _Christ_ —say _what_?” You whine out as Crypto slips himself part way out once again. This time, though, he uses his grip on your hips to drag you back onto his cock, your nipples dragging pleasantly against the sink countertop, now hot with the way you’re sprawled across it.

“My name,” he pants, eyes fascinatedly watching the way your cunt stretches for him, greedily swallows every inch of him. “Say my name.”

“Tae-Joon!” You gasp immediately, nearing that edge as he starts fucking up, crashing into you over and over. You have to catch yourself on the wall again, keep from slipping too close and hitting your head as he fucks into you hard, and fast, and makes your eyes water with the intensity. “Tae-Joon, Tae-Joon, _Tae-Joon!_ ”

His name is the last thing on your lips as you finally cum on his cock, cunt squeezing every inch of him. You shudder out, the tips of your fingernails digging into your palms as a tear finally does leave your eye at the sheer intensity of your orgasm. Tae-Joon doesn’t stop. He pulls your limp frame back onto his dick, thrusting into your hypersensitive walls.

He arches over you as he fills the condom, cock twitching inside of you, groaning even louder than you did. His forehead rests against your shoulder blade, using you once again as leverage to steady himself. His breath puffs against your sweaty back and you squirm a little as his breathing begins to slow.

“You’re trying to break my leg,” you complain.

Tae-Joon hums, slowly pulling out of you. He helps you settle your leg back down on the floor and you stretch it back, trying to regain feeling as Tae-Joon disposes of the condom. You sigh a little, turning to him slowly, arms stretching high above your head. You want to take a nap. You also want to take a shower.

“So,” you say, and he grabs a paper towel from the dispenser, walking over to the sink so he can clean himself off. You’re still in public, you remember, glancing at the drone. It hasn’t moved from its perch and you wonder how exactly no one’s come to see what’s going on with the restrooms. “What now, Tae-Joon?”

He’s gathering up your clothes, offering you your jeans and your panties. You roll down your shirt first, taking the clothes offered, eyes homed in on his face. He doesn’t seem worried, or annoyed, or even a little off kilter. He almost looks… happy.

“I have a meeting I’m probably late to now,” he tells you, meeting your eyes. “You should come.”

[page break]

_Apex Approval: Hyeon Kim, codename Crypto._

_Status: Cleared background check, passed all evals. Fresh angle. Ready for deployment at season initiation._

_Notes: Honestly, something feels off about him and his partner. They’re both spotless – no warrants, no enemies, not even a truancy notice. Who stays that clean their whole life then joins the Games? And demands to bring their spouse along for the ride? Put him in, but you should probably keep an eye on him._


End file.
